Your hands are like fire,
burning my skin.
Where your fingertips brush my face,
a trail of burning flesh,
follows in suit.
But don't stop,
for I long for the fire,
that burns my skin.
YOU ARE READING
REALITY
PoetryPoetry for those few souls that long for realness our world lacks Written not for reads but a place where I can write my feelings so I can attempt understand them myself. ••• To the boy that changed me. Heartbreak or not, you will live on in my burn...
